


Five times they piss each other off, One time they don't

by anairim



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: A little angst, Day 3, Growing Up, Happy Ending, KuroKen Week 2020, M/M, There is a smut part, They're both assholes, What's new, five times one time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23666032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anairim/pseuds/anairim
Summary: That evening, Kenma gets two smacks. One from his father, in front of Kuroo, after Kuroo explains to him what had happened, and one from his mother when she gets home and his father tells her everything.They both unexpectedly hurt less than having your best friend put you face to face with your own wickedness.That night, he understands what being ashamed really means.-(Kenma has always been good at the pissing off game. Kuroo's learning, too.)
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 9
Kudos: 158





	Five times they piss each other off, One time they don't

Kenma is ten years old, sitting on his front porch, playing Fire Emblem on his DS and enjoying life cause his father is working inside and his mother isn’t at home and can't tell him what to do.

Kuroo, as usual, is next to him, throwing the new volleyball he got for his birthday in the air and catching it in his hands. Alternatively, he looks at Kenma’s screen and gives him battle strategies suggestions like: “You should just bring the knight in the mission and kill everyone.” Or: “The knights are stronger, what’s the point in mages?”

After Kenma explains to him why mages and healers are even more important than knights in some missions, he shrugs and says: “Are you done?” And: “Can you set for me?”

“No,” is Kenma’s reply. “I need to finish this first.”

“Then hurry up!” He fidgets with the ball, bounces up and down, swings his legs to and fro.

Kenma completes the mission soon enough but he’s still too engrossed in his game to just leave it. Plus, he’s really not in the mood to play volleyball right now. He’d rather do an experiment and see if starting the game over with different characters gives him different missions to pursue. He’s pretty far in the first chapter when Kuroo realizes he didn’t keep up with his promise.

“You traitor!” he whines.

Kenma rolls his eyes. _So dramatic._ “Come on! Let me save and I’ll play with you.”

“You’ve been saying this for an hour,” Kuroo says, piqued. Then, he leans to the side to look at the screen and watches Kenma proceed to go on with another battle. “And you’re lying to me!”

He takes the DS from Kenma’s hands and quickly runs away as Kenma chases him through the garden. “Give it back! I’ll turn it off.”

Kuroo stops, holding the console over his head so that Kenma can’t reach for it even if he stands on his tippy toes or tries to climb up Kuroo’s side. “If you can’t put it down, I’ll save for you,” he chuckles, trying to free one of his forearms from Kenma’s deathly grasp. He does something with the buttons, but Kenma can’t see what’s happening on the screen at all and now he’s kinda worried Kuroo might let the DS fall, so he quits shaking his arms and pushes him back with both hands, trying to come up with an insult that can deliver all of his anger. “You’ll end up breaking it!”

Looking pleased with himself, Kuroo passes him the DS, says: “The file is saving, don’t worry.”

Kenma looks at the screen, squinting his eyes cause of the sun glare, focusing on the loading screen right on time to see his old file being deleted and overlaid by the newest one. “What did you do?!” he shouts, panic grabbing at his voice. “ _What_ did you do?!”

Kuroo looks at him, confused. “What did I do?”

“You saved over my old file, idiot!” Kenma screams, pushing buttons in a frenzy to find ways to recover his former savings. “Now it’s ruined!”

“I’m sorry,” Kuroo says. And he really is, he _looks_ like he is. Kenma has come to understand him well enough to know he didn’t want to upset him. “Is… is there a way to bring it back?”

“No!” Kenma can’t believe he’s really crying in front of Kuroo, but there is no way he’s gonna be able to hide his ugly sobs. All the hard work he had put into that game, vanished because of some stupid kid who only wants to play stupid volleyball.

“I hate you!” he says to him. “And I hate volleyball too!”

If Kuroo is somewhat affected by that statement, he doesn’t show it. However, he does seem very worried by Kenma’s tears. “H-hey!” he mutters. “Stop crying, okay? Grandma made chocolate cake, do you want some? I’ll go get it and then we can start over the game. No more volleyball till you get it like it was before. Deal?”

Kenma has stopped wailing and now is just silently crying out of frustration _and_ shame. “It’s impossible,” he says, holding on to the DS like he would hold on to a puppy. But Kuroo does a very Kuroo-style thing to do and ignores him. He runs across the street to his own house and stays there for ten minutes or so.

During those ten minutes Kenma is alone and free to meditate revenge. It’s not his fault Kuroo’s volleyball is sitting right besides his mother’s gardening scissors. It’s not his fault he is so angry.

When Kuroo gets back he has already started the game again, this time with the same characters as his old file, to make it turn out as close as possible to the original.

Kuroo has brown crumbs on his chin and two cake slices, one of them half-eaten. Kenma looks at the cake, then up at Kuroo’s open-hearted smile and gets a sick feeling in his stomach, like he’s falling down a pit.

His friend plops on the porch, right besides him again, munching softly, showing a lot more interest for the characters of the game, their backstory and their role in battle. He is so _so_ great, Kenma almost forgets why he’s feeling terribly guilty and undeserving of his kindness. But then, Kuroo asks, “Where’s my ball?” and Kenma’s heart starts pounding harder.

He is sorry, he really is. He should probably tell him what he’s done, that’s what Kuroo would do. That’s what good friends do.

But Kenma never believed he could live up to that name.

“Don’t know,” he shrugs. “You had it.”

“But I left it here.” Kuroo gets up, after swallowing the last of his cake, and starts looking around.

Kenma does his best to look innocent, to keep playing and seem unbothered when in reality he’s just hoping Kuroo can’t find the evidence of his crime. It doesn’t take long though.

How could it?

The torn flaps of what once was Kuroo’s ball are all scattered _right there_. It wasn’t like Kenma hadn’t tried to hide them: he'd _hoped_ Kuroo would see them. He’d _wanted_ to make him cry too.

Kuroo holds one of the pieces of his ball in front of Kenma's face, just like he had with the cake he still has to eat. “Did you do this?” He asks, tears already running down his cheeks. He sobs, then shakes his head cause it’s obvious it’s Kenma’s fault.

“Why are you so mean?!” Kuroo tries to keep his voice down, but it goes up by itself. And then, he starts crying uncontrollably, mourning the loss of precious birthday present, lamenting the fact that there was his name printed on it. He screams so loudly Kenma’s father comes out to check on them.

That evening, Kenma gets two smacks. One from his father, in front of Kuroo, after Kuroo explains to him what had happened, and one from his mother when she gets home and his father tells her everything.

They both unexpectedly hurt less than having your best friend put you face to face with your own wickedness.

That night, he understands what being ashamed really means.

***

Kenma is thirteen years old and sitting on Kuroo’s bed after a long and hard afternoon practice at school. He’s waiting for him to finish his shower cause, for some reason, Kuroo doesn’t do it at school with the others. Not anymore, at least.

He’s there so he can get tutored in chemistry and hopefully pass the test tomorrow, but Kuroo is taking his sweet time and Kenma is very tired. He feels busy all the time, recently, and the mere thought his only friend at school will soon graduate makes him want to give up on volleyball completely.

He’s not that fond of it anyway.

Because Kuroo is no where in sight, and because he feels like he might fall asleep any minute, he gets up and opens his friend’s computer. He knows the password cause Kuroo told him a long time ago, when he had gotten it.

“If I ever die,” he had said. “You can get it and delete all the compromising stuff.”

Kenma saw it as a manifestation of blind trust. Something stupid and pointless. A way to say: _we’re best friends, look at us!_

Nonetheless, he had been happy to be the keeper of Kuroo’s secrets. He himself, however, had never been able to do the same with him.

Now he unlocks the computer screen, and a video immediately starts to play.

There’s loud moaning and wet noises coming through the speakers, so Kenma quickly jolts to stop it, even though there is no one in the house but him and Kuroo.

Discovering what kind of porn your friend watches isn’t really an embarrassment free ordeal.

Seeing two ripped men fucking each other on the screen is entirely something else.

Thinking Kuroo didn’t even close the video before taking the headphones out makes him feel glad he’s the one who clicked on it, proud cause of succeeding in his protector of secrets role.

But then, he starts to understand the implication and to realise Kuroo’s probably gay if he watches that stuff. And, if he _is_ then it’s clear why he doesn’t wanna shower with the others.

“What are you doing?!” Kuroo asks, already alarmed, from behind him. Kenma yelps a little on the chair, stutters: “I, ehm, I—it was open. Sorry.”

Kuroo’s skin turns an interesting shade of pink and his eyes, panicked, like those of a beast ready to beat it, are liquid and shiny. “That’s personal, you know that?”

“You said I could have your password,” Kenma replies. It’s really okay. Kuroo doesn’t need to be that scared. It’s not a big deal.

“Yeah, for _emergencies_!” He lets out a hiccup, then shies away, like he can’t stand to see Kenma’s face. “Oh god, please, please, _please_ , don’t tell anyone, okay?” he pleads, desperately. “Don’t tell Dad, please.”

“Yeah,” Kenma says, immediately, cause he is Kuroo Tetsurou’s secrets keeper and there’s nobody around better at his job than him. “Yeah, of course.”

“Not even your mother,” Kuroo adds, in a very serious tone of voice.

“I don’t tell her anything anyway.”

Then, they start doing homework and seem to overcome the situation.

Kuroo says: “It’s chemistry in my brain that made me gay.”

And Kenma replies with: “Chemistry in my brain wants me to quit volleyball, instead.”

They argue about that. Kuroo is convinced Kenma can become the best setter in the world cause he’s smart, brilliantly talented and cool to the marrow when focused. He begs him not to go away.

Kenma scorns him while he talks, then a question comes out of his mouth as quick as he thinks it: “You’re not in love with me, are you?”

It’s meant to be innocent and playful, _accepting_ , even. But it doesn’t work and Kenma understands it’s a big mistake when he locks his eyes in Kuroo’s flaming ones.

“See?” He says, betrayal dripping off the top of his tongue. “That’s what I was afraid of. Kenma, you can’t do this to me!”

“Do what?” Kenma is genuinely confused. He doesn’t get why Kuroo is so mad. Why is he making this about _himself_ ? Were or weren’t they discussing about Kenma and wether or not he should continue with a club activity that made him too busy and exhausted?

“Treat me like a joke!” Kuroo replies. “It’s a serious thing for me. If you’re not taking it seriously too, I can’t trust you.”

That night, Kenma gets home without having studied for his chemistry test and stays awake long after midnight. He thinks about volleyball, about Kuroo being gay and so _so_ afraid. He convinces himself that maybe _he_ needs Kenma just as much as _Kenma_ needs him. He thinks about being Kuroo’s only friend and decides he can’t abandon him just yet.

The morning after, he tells him he’s not going anywhere, gives him the password for his computer.

“For emergencies,” he says.

He understands what trusting somebody unconditionally really means.

***

Kenma is fifteen years old, back pressed against the gym wall during lunch break while Kuroo kisses his breath away. It been at least half an hour and it’s one of their first make out sessions so it’s sloppy and not that deep but, still, Kenma is enjoying himself very much.

Chemistry in his brain made him gay too, in the end. Most of the time, he doesn’t mind: Kuroo is the sweetest guy ever, his only friend and probably the only person that could ever love him besides his parents. Plus, he’s handsome.

“Practice is about to start,” Kenma says, pulling away from an everlasting kiss. “Somebody could see us.” His lips are becoming sore from that much rubbing against Kuroo’s, his head’s cloudy and pleasingly dazed. He loves the feeling but they can’t walk into practice looking like they had been tripping balls in the washroom. They need to get back to themselves a little, otherwise their secret might get out.

Kuroo straightens his back, licks his lower lip, absent minded. “Maybe it’s time to say it.”

“Say what?”

“I wanna come out.”Kuroo glances tentatively up at him, like a kid stuck in mischief. “I’m tired of hiding.”

Kenma acts taken aback. He already suspected Kuroo wanted to do something of the kind, cause he keeps hugging him and touching his hand when their friends are around, but he was hoping that not addressing his behaviour would eventually bring an end to it. Kenma doesn’t want anyone to know.

What happened to their mutual job of protecting each other’s secrets?

“You mean,” he asks, tilting his head to the side, trying to sound as incredulous as possible so that hopefully Kuroo will change his mind. “To your dad?”

“No,” Kuroo says. “I’m too scared. I’ll tell Yaku and Kai first. See how they react.”

Kenma doesn’t answer. He can still taste Kuroo’s tongue sliding on his own, he can still feel tingles up and down his back, on the tips of his fingers. Does Kuroo really want those two to know his deepest secrets? Does he really trust them that much? Do they have the password to his computer too?

What happened to Kenma being the only friend he needed?

“Is…is that okay if I do?” Kuroo prods, softly. He’s not gonna force him, but Kenma’s panicking all the same: if Kuroo learns how to make new friends then he’s probably going to realise there’s a lot more he can get than Kenma. What if he abandons him?

“You wanna see if they turn out gay too?” he says, hiding fear with rage, worry with evil.

“Kenma, what the hell?” Kuroo whispers. “Just say _no_.”

“No!” Kenma gets off of the wall, starts going to the entrance of the gym in a desperate attempt to escape Kuroo’s hurt filled gaze.

He’s such a shitty person, the worst friend one could ever be stuck with _and_ the worst boyfriend.

Practice is very silent today, a bit lethargic and kind of a drag. Kenma is happy when it’s over, he can’t wait to get home and to sink his teeth into something unhealthy cause it’s Thursday and his father has to work from the office and won’t be home to cook dinner.

He first has to survive to a thirty minutes train ride and a ten minutes walk besides Kuroo, though.

Since they’re both sulking on a semi-empty metro and since Kenma is the one who did him wrong, he’s the one who speaks first.

“I’m just not ready yet.” The cabin starts to get really busy, so they get up and wade through the crowd to get closer to the door. Their stop is next.

“I get that,” Kuroo finally says. “What I don’t get is why you’re that way. I thought you were into me.”

The train stops and he strives forward to get on the platform, like he’s trying to run away from him. Kenma has to lightly push a man who’s blocking the way, so he gets left behind a little. When he catches up he blurts out, frantically: “I _am_.”

“Seems you’re just making fun of me.” Kuroo lets out an angry noise, one of _contempt_ and just like that, the discussion is over.

They walk home, in silence.

That night, Kenma eats junk food and thinks about what would happen if Yaku and Kai became Kuroo’s new best friends. He thinks about how loud they were laughing and joking in the locker room, how happy Kuroo looked when they were around and how much his mood shifted when he got stuck alone with Kenma on the way home.

He understands what being jealous really means.

***

Kenma is seventeen years old, palming Kuroo’s dick through his pants, planting open-mouthed, breathy kisses all over his his collarbones, down till he reaches the collar of his shirt and then back up.

Legends tell they’re studying for midterms in Kenma’s room. But they stepped away from what was written, decided to conquer independence and free themselves of any norm.

Truth is they’re both incredibly horny and don’t have the right mindset to learn anything at the moment.

Kuroo rolls his hips against his hand, breathes hard, trying to get closer by pulling him into a kiss that seems to make him more deprived than before. He starts to slide down, to tug on Kenma’s shirt, getting increasingly impatient by the minute.

“Is the door locked?” He murmurs, then gasps staring up at him with half lidded eyes when Kenma squeezes his hand through to grab at his cock with no kind of fabric to prevent their full contact.

“Yeah,” Kenma whispers, dumbfounded. He’ll never get over how pretty Kuroo looks with his neck exposed and bended like that, he’ll never get over how nice it is to feel him tremble against his skin. He stares at Kuroo’s hair, glowing in the afternoon light that comes through his ajar blinds and feels like he’s gonna die if he leaves him there. Even if it’s just to check the door.

“My parents are working anyway,” he says. “It’s fine.”

Kuroo opens his eyes fully, startled. “Kenma, are you _sure_ it is?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Kenma lies. His parents are both working from home today, but it’s not like they can’t take breaks or will be busy at all hours. He pushes Kuroo’s shoulder, to make him lie back down.“Now, be a good boy.”

“You’re so gross.” Kuroo still looks hesitant, but it only takes Kenma to stroke him a bit more decisively for him to melt and stop complaining.

“I think you like it,” Kenma says, feeling proud of himself for being able to make Kuroo grow harder with just two words.

He wants to tease him more before he comes cause he seems so _so_ close, thus he leans in to kiss him, removing his hand from Kuroo’s underwear, determined to return to it when and only when Kuroo will start to whine in his mouth.

He almost does right away, Kenma can feel him shift below him, in desperate search for friction; he can feel him make a pleading sound, one of _need_ , on his lips but it’s still not quite enough to satisfy him. He chuckles, enjoying his temporary power, feeling himself getting excited almost to the point of forgetting his own name.

Then there’s loud footsteps from outdoors and his mother’s voice: “Boys!” she calls. “What are you doing?”

Kenma can hear her as she strolls down the hallway to his room. He jumps down from Kuroo’s lap, sitting violently on the floor and taking the first book he can find to pretend he’s studying.

Kuroo is still a drowsy mess on his bed when Kenma’s mother opens the door (which had been unlocked for all that time) and pokes her head through, but at least he managed to get his hard-on covered with a pillow and he’s taking a notebook from the ground.

“ _Mom_ ,” Kenma says. He’s pretty sure she knows what’s going on, she’s not stupid. That’s probably why she ran up the stairs and made a lot of noise and waited a bit before getting in. But, if she knows, why the fuck did she have to interrupt?

Sometimes, Kenma hates her with a passion.“We’re studying,” he growls.

“Do you want snacks?” she asks. When she rests her gaze on Kuroo, who’s still scatterbrained and unable to form words, her smile falters, her voice gets deeper, meaner. “Get downstairs in five minutes.”

“I kind of hate her right now,” Kuroo says, when she’s gone. He sits up and Kenma can see he’s gonna be cranky for the rest of the evening, even if they do manage to finish what they started.

“Yeah, she’s nosey.” Since Kenma came out to his parents, Mom had started to behave differently towards Kuroo. She always used a menacing tone when talking to him and she didn’t refer to him as _honey_ anymore. Kuroo had never wanted to make it that big of a deal so he ignored it, but recently she had been intolerable. Kenma really needed to talk to her, make her understand Kuroo wasn’t corrupting him.

“No, she’s not,” Kuroo says now. “She’s just a control freak and when things don’t go her way she becomes a toddler.”

“Excuse _you_?” Kenma asks, baffled. That tone is not Kuroo-like: he’s always so polite and careful to respect who’s older than him. He’s always so keen on being liked by everyone he comes in contact with he never lets a negative judgment slip from his mouth, but now he looks mad.

“We should just go to my house next time.” Kuro gets up from the bed, straightens his clothes and stretches his back, groaning. “What a bother,” he sighs.

“I don’t wanna go to your house,” Kenma retorts. “Your father fucking hates me.”

Much like Kenma’s mother, Kuroo’s father had taken a strong dislike in Kenma after discovering he was his son’s boyfriend. There was a big difference between the two, though.

“That’s not true,” Kuroo says.

“He tried to make me break up with you, remember?” That had been a really fucked up affair. Kuroo’s father made him subtly understand he’d much rather want his son to be in a heterosexual relationship and then tried to bribe him into leaving him. That was the dirtiest anyone ever made him feel.

Kuroo gets very ashamed in remembering that but he pretty much called it upon himself. “He’s very sorry about that. He’s getting better, anyway.”

“Mom too.” Kenma looks at his own hand as he stretches it out after keeping it so firmly clasped for so long. It’s an excuse not to look into Kuroo’s eyes as he says: “At least she accepts me.”

The only thing Kuroo wants more than to be loved by his boyfriend is that his father will one day forgive him because he’s not the son he had hoped for. Kenma has always thought there was nothing to _forgive_ , that the only thing to do was for Kuroo’s father to _learn_ and _understand_ him as he was. It was all about compromises.

But Kenma has a knack for stabbing him where it hurts, when he knows it’s gonna hurt the most.

“See?” Kuroo shots back at him. And he suddenly looks really sad and alone. The venom that comes through his lips after that doesn’t hurt any less, though. Maybe it’s Kenma’s fault for teaching him how to be spiteful, maybe he truly is the one who’s corrupted _him_ after all these years.

“You’re so like her: always trying to get it your way!” he mutters. “Your way or nothing.”

And now that he has done it, now that it’s out in the open, Kenma has to say it too: “Just like you and your father, you mean?” he snarls. “Even if you play dirty or lie.”

“You didn’t even bother to look if the door was closed!” Kuroo ignores him completely, even though he flushes at the accusation. “Cause you think you’re a goddamn _prince_. Your mother never lets you do anything, no surprises in how you turned out, right?”

“Say something else about her, I _dare_ you,” Kenma retorts and now he is so furious he doesn’t care how mean he gets. “She fucking raised you up, too. Where was your dad in elementary and middle school? I don’t remember ever seeing him around. What I do remember is _you_ being at my house twenty-four seven.”

They fight ferociously, back and forth on that line, insulting each other’s parent but keeping their voices low and, when Kenma’s mother comes to check on them again, Kuroo puts on his golden son mask, excuses himself and goes home.

That night, Kenma barely sleeps. He feels like he never knew what anger was before, despite having grazed the feeling so often when he was a kid. He thinks about his mother being so embarrassing and insufferable. Maybe she is a bit of a control freak, but her intentions aren't mean spirited.

It occurs to him that possibly Kuroo was trying to justify his dad as much as Kenma was doing with his mom.

That night, Kenma learns that if he wants to keep Kuroo, then he has to understand what tolerance really is.

The next day, he’s the first one to apologise, even though he believes Kuroo's in the wrong.

***

Kenma is nineteen years old, alone in his dorm room, waiting for Kuroo to answer the phone. They go to the same University, but their campuses are a fourty minutes ride of distance from one another. It’s late in the evening and he’s just come back after a birthday lunch with his parents.

“Hi, baby,” Kuroo says sweetly in his left ear. He answered after a couple of rings cause he’s probably really busy with studying for his exam next week. “How was your birthday?”

Kenma knows he shouldn’t be petty, but, even if they talked about it and they agreed to celebrate together on Kuroo’s birthday next month, he can’t help but being disappointed. “You didn’t come,” he tells him.

It’s the first birthday since he was seven he spends without Kuroo. He hadn’t expected it would have been so different and so _empty_.

Kuroo answers, surprised: “You told me not to, yesterday.”

It’s true, Kenma did, cause Kuroo was stressing over his anatomy exam, which was a _terrifying beast_ and hadn’t had the heart to reveal how much he wanted to see him, cause he knew Kuroo would have come and stayed till night and studied while he slept just to take the first train to go back in the early morning. He didn’t want him to get sick or anything.

Still, Kenma had hoped in a quick surprise from him. It’s almost ridiculous how much it hurts to know Kuroo didn’t think about it at all. He could really cry, right now.

“I thought you would have come for a bit, though,” Kenma says. “You always do this kind of stuff. You didn’t even call.”

He left him speechless, he can feel it through the phone. When will he learn how not to hurt him?

“I—I’m sorry, Kenma,” he murmurs, voice low, pained. He hates so much not living up to expectations, he’s gonna be ready to do anything to fix things now.

In fact, he says: “I _could_ be there with the next train…”

Kenma’s mood starts to change immediately, he smiles, whispers, “Cheesy ass” through the phone. They haven’t seen each other in a month or so. Kenma strives for his touch, to have him by his side and caress him all night long. He has been so lonely lately. University sucks and finding friends is a harder task than he thought.

“But I won’t,” Kuroo blurts out, then.

“Huh?” Kenma gets yanked back to reality and he can’t believe Kuroo is _refusing_ to come while he was already imagining their perfect reunion and… Is it possible that with time _Kenma_ became the cheesy one?

“I told you yesterday,” Kuroo says. “I need the library here, otherwise I can’t study. I promise I’ll come right after my exam, okay? I’ll stay there for a couple of days.”

Kenma huffs. “Don’t even bother.” He has hoped to see him till the very end, he thinks, as he feels himself become more and more frustrated. That’s why now he’s so annoyed.

“Your exam is more important than me.” He pouts, childishly. “Go study.”

He means to sound playful, but he’s upset for real so it doesn’t come off very good, or reassuring.

“Stop making me feel guilty for this,” Kuroo says. “I can’t put all my work aside right now. _Understand_ that!”

Kenma jumps a little in his chair at the aggressiveness in Kuroo’s voice. “I was just jok—”

“No, you were not.” Kuroo interrupts him. “I love you, I really do. But you need to learn you’re not the only one on this earth.”

Kenma doesn’t reply, too offended to even say goodbye to him.

It’s fine, he thinks, playing Animal Crossing for six hours straight, scowling at all his villagers. Kuroo’s just very worried for his exam, when he’s done with it he’s gonna apologise, Kenma is sure about that. Still, a couple of tears escape his control. It’s rare for his boyfriend to be that much of an asshole to him. It’s rare for Kuroo in general to be mean. He must be really struggling and Kenma hasn’t even shown an interest into knowing how he’s doing, if his studying is going okay, if there is something else worrying him.

All he cared about was himself, as usual. Kuroo could really get tired of this.

That night, Kenma understands he’s not the only one on this earth.

The morning after, he sends a text: _Ily 2. so so much. promise me to take care of yourself, k? call u tonight._

***

Kenma is twenty-three years old, drooling on his pillow at three p.m, after spending the entire night of his last exam of the semester drinking with his floor mates and playing a new obscure horror game he found at two a.m. on his PC while drunk.

He wakes up suddenly cause someone has just barged in his room, saying, “Kozume, turn that shit down, dammit!”

Kenma groans, propping himself on his elbows. His head is spinning like crazy and he can’t quite make out his intruder’s features cause he’s too blurry. There’s an insufferable noise pounding on his eardrums, making his head feel like it’s being squished by a giant press. “Your alarm has been going off for at least two hours!”

Kenma finally recognises the guy to whom that voice belongs to. It’s one of his _kohai_ s: Matsuda.

“Turn it off!” Kenma gurgles, hiding his head under a pillow.

He hears Matsuda travel through the room to find his phone, which has gone completely berserk, with the most hardcore alarm sound he could ever choose. His underclassmen throws some swearwords as he looks for the death machine and Kenma can’t quite remember why he didn’t put it on his nightstand as always. When Matsuda finally finds it, he goes _hooray!_ then he turns it off and Kenma sighs with relief. He can finally sleep some more, he rejoices, while rolling over.

“Your boyfriend sent you thirty messages,” Matsuda says. “And you have a _lot_ of missed calls. Did something happen?”

Kenma is almost already fast asleep, a bitter paste of alcohol flavoured saliva on his tongue. He feels disgusting but he still isn’t strong enough to get up, nor to make sense of Matsuda’s blabbering right away.

When he finally understands, he wonders: “What’s he saying?”

“Hmmm… _Kenma, you’re seriously gonna miss my graduation?_ ” Matsuda gasps. “Well, shit! It’s from half an hour ago.”

Kenma jumps up like a spring, suddenly remembering he had put his phone on the ground the night before to be sure he would have to _get actually up_ and out of bed to turn it off, so that he could be in time to go to Kuroo’s thesis discussion. He’d never considered he would sleep through the over twenty alarms he’d set up.

“Fuck!” he screams. He gets on the ground, looking for the suit he’d bought for the occasion, fighting the urge to puke right then and there.

“Fuck, shit!” he blurts out, gathering his bathrobe and soap. “Shit, fuck!”

He runs to the shower cabins, wondering wether or not he has to recharge his train card. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck me_!”

Perfect timing! Way to go, Kenma! The only thing left to do was bite into Kuroo’s chest and straight up eat his heart out.

 _He’s never talking to me again_ , he thinks. _We’re done_.

He almost start balling his eyes out under the shower head, but his five minutes are up and he has no time for self pity. He blowdries his hair with one hand and washes his teeth with the other. When he gets back to his room to get dressed, Matsuda hands him a mug with a disgustingly smelly infuse.

“To dominate your hang-over, dude,” he says. “Next train is in seven minutes.”

Kenma thanks him, swallows the hot drink in two sips even if he feels his oesophagus deteriorating under the heat.

While dressing, he gets his hands tangled in his necktie, so he decides against it, even though he knows Kuroo’s head spins when he dresses all formal. But he’s got to beat it, or the only thing to spin will be his stomach when Kuroo fucking leaves him.

He runs out of the dorm, without a jacket cause thankfully it’s already warm outside.

Someone calls him, screaming: “Kozume, where the fuck are you going?”

He has no idea who he is.

He keeps running, faster, faster, faster. This is what he had trained so hard for in high school. Kuroo is the only reason his legs are able to keep moving even if his brain and the rest of his body beg him to just stop. On the train, he sees Kuroo’s last night messages, to which he hadn’t replied cause he was baked out of his mind and didn’t notice them.

One said: _I know it’s your night but please, promise me you’ll be there_. Another one said: _You have almost an entire page of acknowledgements in my thesis, if you don’t get there just because of a hang-over you’ll make a bad impression._

Kenma texts him back, now, almost fifteen hours later, even if Kuroo hadn’t log in in a long time and was probably already shaking hands with the american teacher who was the supervisor of his thesis, who Kuroo adored but also, sometimes, hated and who had probably assigned him the highest of grades.

 _I’m coming right now_ , he writes.

 _Please, don’t hate me_ , he thinks, still trying to catch his breath from the run, thinking about the page of acknowledgements he didn’t deserve in the slightest.

His parents had texted and called too, worried cause of his absence.

 _This isn’t what I taught you, young man_ , his mother had written him.

 _Mum, if you can, tell him I’m coming_ , he types to her.

He gets at Kuroo’s campus at three-fifty five p.m. and runs without a direction to find the building Kuroo told him the name of yesterday. It takes him a lot of time, cause the campus it’s bigger than his, but then he sees a familiar face, a guy he recognises from Kuroo’s friend group, whom he believes to remember his name’s Sora.

He’s smoking outside of the building Kuroo talked about last evening and, when he sees him he says, “We were waiting for you”, then smiles really bright. “Your doctor got a honours degree. His father is ugly crying on him right now. You should go too.”

Kenma feels his heart fill up to the brim with something he can’t explain and runs inside, thanking Sora while he does.

Kuroo is behind a thick glass door, difficult to open and to close, looking like a shooting star in a room full of people. He doesn’t focus on the other graduates, he only has eyes for Kuroo, who’s hugging his father hard as he sobs on his shoulder.

He sees his own parents, Kuroo's friends, chatting to one another. He’s pretty sure Yaku and Kai are there somewhere, he just can’t find them yet.

His mother sees him too, gets close to him, fixes his shirt collar and says, “Start thinking about how to make up with him.”

“You…you think he’ll forgive me?” Kenma asks her, not bothering to even try to hide his worry.

She puts a strand of hair behind his ear. “That’s up to you, baby,” she whispers. “Go to him.”

Kuroo’s waiting, he realises, and his father moved away to entertain his relatives. People have noticed Kenma and are leaving him free access to the king of the party.

So he gets closer to him and whispers: “Doctor.”

Kuroo smirks a little, but seems to restrain himself from looking in his direction. “You made it,” he says, quietly.

“ _You_ made it,” Kenma answers. “Can I hug you?”

Kuroo nods and they slide into each other’s arms like it’s their way of breathing.

“I’m so _so_ proud of you,” Kenma says against his ear. “I’ll do anything. Just say what I need to do and I’ll do it.”

Kuroo tightens his arms around him. “I want you to read my acknowledgments.”

“That’s it?” Kenma asks him, a little surprised. Kuroo used to get very hurt and angry for things like that. They made him feel like he wasn’t worthy, so Kenma thought he would be sulking a lot more. “You’re not upset?”

“Also I expect a lot of kisses later,” he answers. And he seems _fine_. “You came even if it was too late. You love me, that’s all I want.”

That afternoon, Kenma reads Kuroo’s acknowledgements. That evening, he covers him up in kisses, till he feels like his lips are about to fall off and then keeps on going.

That night, he understands _love_ a little better.


End file.
